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  But first Tessa needed makeup. Her hands shook slightly as she pawed through the mess below the sink.

  Eric eight…Eric nine…Eric ten…

  Nervous jitters, she told herself, as she released the knot of tension with her breath. Anyone would feel some nerves on a night as big as tonight.

  She still couldn’t quite believe that it was happening. It didn’t feel real—this whole scenario with the Twitter contest. More like the plot of some fanfic she might have written. What were the odds? A private Eric Thorn show, here in Midland, twenty minutes from her home. Things like that didn’t happen by chance. It had to be a sign. The universe was trying to tell her something. This meeting with Taylor was meant to be—the miracle she needed to get her life back on track.

  “Aha!” She let out a cry of triumph as she pulled open a plastic grocery bag full of cheap cosmetics. She didn’t have time for anything elaborate, but she didn’t need too much. The complexion of her heart-shaped face was naturally smooth and unblemished, if a bit pale from lack of sunlight. Tessa mostly wanted to play up her hazel eyes, large and almond shaped, ringed with thick lashes. Mascara was a must. Maybe a smudge of eyeliner?

  Now for the lips.

  Tessa sifted through the crusty, old lipstick tubes, wrinkling her nose. She held up a dark red shade in front of her mouth, but she set it back down again unused. Too easy to smear. It was New Year’s Eve, and Tessa knew what that meant. Just the thought of it made her stomach do a flip-flop. Where would she be at midnight? Dancing in Taylor’s arms? And at the stroke of twelve, perhaps their lips would meet…

  Her mouth curved in a secret smile, and this time it wasn’t forced. No lipstick, she decided. Just a coating of clear gloss. She probably didn’t need any blusher either, from the looks of the bright-pink color flooding her cheeks.

  She slicked the gloss across her lips and puckered at her reflection.

  Ready.

  Tessa turned briskly toward the stairs. Her ride would be there any minute. No time to dwell on any lingering anxieties. She began the long journey down the corridor, even as the nervous fluttering in her belly gave way to something darker.

  “Eric. Eric Thorn,” she whispered like a chant as she took a slow step forward. “See,” she told herself. “It’s all in your head.”

  But it didn’t feel like her imagination. More like a physical sensation—an external force that grew more powerful by the second. Like she had a rubber band tied around her waist, growing tauter with every step she took. Soon the tension would become unbearable. The elastic would snap. And then what? Then she’d find herself flung back to the starting place, back inside her bedroom door.

  Tessa lowered her head and plowed on. She had to keep going this time. Even if she fainted. Even if she had to roll herself down the stairs. Tonight was too important. She couldn’t give in to her phobias yet again. She wouldn’t.

  She’d made it halfway down the stairs before she pulled up short. Tessa patted at the pocket of her jeans and realized it was empty. Her phone. She couldn’t leave without that. What if Taylor tried to message her? She had to go back for it and do the whole trip downstairs all over again. With a small cry of frustration, Tessa bounded back upstairs and grabbed the phone from where she’d left it by the sink. She was just about to slip it in her pocket when a notification lit the screen.

  Her heart skipped a beat.

  Taylor? Had he run into some delay? Was he backing out? Her stomach dropped, weighted down by an emotion she couldn’t quite name: disappointment mingled with relief.

  But the message wasn’t even from Taylor. Instead, Tessa found herself staring at a DM from an account that she hadn’t interacted with in months.

  MET: Hey, ur gonna send me pics from the show, right?

  A wave of vertigo washed over her, and Tessa gripped the bathroom door to keep from falling. The show? The Eric Thorn show? What other show could MET possibly mean?

  Tessa H: Huh?

  MET: Private show in Midland!

  MET knew she’d won the contest? She knew where Tessa lived? But how? Another new DM popped onto the screen.

  MET: Are you gonna send me pics, or do I have to get them myself?

  Tessa H: I have no idea what you’re talking about.

  MET: Tessa, I know EVERYTHING ABOUT EVERYTHING in this fandom. Haven’t you figured that out by now?

  Tessa thrust the phone into her pocket. Black spots danced before her eyes as she made her halting way to the bottom of the stairs. Her stomach rolled, and she pressed a clammy hand across her mouth. She’d spent the whole last week clinging to the idea that the concert would be private. No one else would be there, aside from the short list of people that mattered in her life:

  Taylor.

  Dr. Regan.

  Eric Thorn.

  No one else was supposed to know about it. Not even her mom. So how did MET know? How many other people had she told? What if Tessa found a whole mob of rabid fans lined up outside the club? What if security let them in, and Tessa ended up in some overcrowded room, packed shoulder to shoulder?

  Strangers jostling…hands groping…cameras flashing…

  “No!”

  She couldn’t let that happen. She sent back another frantic DM.

  Tessa H: No pictures. Guest list closed. Security SUPER tight. Don’t waste your time.

  It was unreal to think how her feelings about MET had changed in a few short months. She’d felt downright honored when Eric’s most popular superfan first followed her account. Now Tessa wished the other girl had never noticed her. There was a line somewhere between fangirling and stalking, and MET had crossed it long ago.

  But Tessa couldn’t let some stranger spoil this experience. She had to put it out of her mind. Relax. Focus on her breathing, in and out, just the way Dr. Regan had taught her…

  Tessa heard the crunch of tires on the gravel road outside. She opened the front door and saw Dr. Regan’s silver SUV rolling up the driveway.

  Time to go.

  With one last deep breath for courage, Tessa stepped over the threshold and pulled the door closed in her wake.

  • • •

  Blair shuffled down the edge of the empty highway, staggering under the weight of the duffel bag. So much for traveling light. The damned thing must have weighed thirty pounds. How much farther was it?

  Blair had asked to pull over in front of the club just now, but the surly Greyhound driver had refused. They’d finally rolled to a stop at an abandoned bus shelter, a quarter mile farther down the road. Now Blair needed to hustle if the plan was going to work. No time to stop and redistribute the bag’s unwieldy contents.

  Why was it so heavy? Blair had only meant to pack a few supplies: a camera, a telephoto lens, a flashbulb… Somehow it had multiplied. One camera turned into three or four, but it couldn’t be helped. Every item was essential. The chance had come at long last—a second chance that most people never got. Blair couldn’t risk botching it again.

  Not like the last time.

  Blair couldn’t quite suppress the momentary flare of irritation at the thought. The memory still rankled—walking away with nothing but the photos to show for it. So many photos, and not one of them had been right. One image slightly out of focus. Another poorly lit. Even the ones that achieved technical perfection hadn’t proven satisfying. Something was missing from all of them: some essence of that inner human fire, so difficult to capture in a single frame.

  Blair didn’t want to leave it to chance this time. The right equipment could make or break a shot. That meant a few different cameras. A folding tripod. A variety of filters and diffusers. Some rolls of cord and duct tape. And don’t forget a good, sharp knife…

  The weight of the bag dug into Blair’s shoulder, but it would all be worth it. The club had come into view at last. Now all that remained were a few well-timed DMs. Some might say that was a step too far, but Blair couldn’t see a way around it. All’s fair in love and war, right? None of it would matter in th
e end. True love would prevail, and a few bumps and scrapes along the way would soon be mended.

  The time had come to put all the careful planning into action. Blair broke into a gleeful smile at the thought. Tonight would mean redemption. After the months and months of waiting, things would finally be set right. Two lovers would stand face-to-face, just like the day they first met. Only this time, the eyes looking back wouldn’t be blinded by concert lights. This time, those beautiful eyes would see the truth.

  But first, Blair needed to clear the field of any inconvenient distractions. This Twitter infatuation had gone on long enough. How had it even started in the first place? How could someone be so misguided? How could you have your soul mate staring you in the face and look away? Turn to someone else, someone so thoroughly undeserving, who could only cause you heartache in the end?

  Blair had been over it a million times in the intervening months, and only one answer made any sense. It was a lot like taking a photo, really. Happened all the time, especially with less experienced photographers. Sometimes the subject looked directly at the flash and wound up blinking in the shot. That must have been what happened. A mistake that only lasted for an instant. Eventually, the eyes reopened and the vision cleared.

  Tonight it would all be corrected. Blair would make sure of that.

  And the other one? The interloper? A mistimed flashbulb. Nothing more. It was unfortunate, of course, but there wasn’t any choice. Tonight that light would have to be extinguished, once and for all.

  22

  L-O-V-E

  “Wait. Stop. Turn around. I want to go back home.”

  Tessa whispered the words, and Dr. Regan darted a glance in her direction from behind the wheel of the car.

  “You’re doing wonderfully, Tessa. We’re almost there now. Remember your breathing.”

  Tessa nodded. She made an O with her lips and sucked the air deep into her lungs. She’d felt relatively relaxed earlier, getting ready, but that disconcerting DM exchange with MET had thrown her into turmoil.

  It was no use. All the breathing exercises in the world couldn’t quiet the chaos going on inside her head. “It isn’t working,” she said. Her voice sounded high and tight to her own ears.

  “Don’t give in to the anxiety,” Dr. Regan responded calmly. They reached the highway entrance ramp, and Tessa felt the car’s acceleration as her therapist pressed down on the gas. “Think about your other tools.”

  What else? Tessa cast about in her mind for the other relaxation techniques that Dr. Regan had taught her. Meditation? Biofeedback? Yoga?

  “Make a list?” she asked aloud.

  Her therapist rewarded her with a nod. “Very good, Tessa. Sometimes, just seeing your worries written out can make them feel less insurmountable.”

  Tessa didn’t have any paper, but at least she had her phone. She opened up her Notes app and started to write.

  Worries:

  I’m not inside my house

  I’m 10 minutes away from my house

  I’m going to be 20 minutes away from my house

  I’m going to a concert

  There’s a chance it could be crowded

  Eric Thorn is going to see me

  I’m going to meet Taylor

  Tessa stopped, her finger shaking too badly to continue. Maybe she just needed to concentrate on the last one. That was the heart of it, the thought that made her more anxious than all the others and the reason she knew she had to go.

  She was going to meet Taylor.

  She couldn’t back out. Not now. Not after what he’d said to her last night. Maybe she just needed to remind herself exactly how he phrased it.

  Tessa opened Twitter and scrolled backward, searching through the thread:

  Time Stamp 12/30/16, 11:23 p.m.

  Tessa H: Taylor, I’m scared. I’m not sure I can go through with it.

  Taylor: OK, don’t freak out. Just talk to me. Tell me why.

  Tessa H: Agoraphobia?

  Taylor: I know, I know. But, Tessa, I still don’t know what triggered it.

  Tessa H: I can’t.

  Taylor: Tessa, what happened to you last summer?

  Tessa H: I should probably say good night now.

  Taylor: No, no, wait. Forget I asked. Talk to me about something else. It doesn’t have to be that. Just keep talking to me right now.

  Tessa H: I’m not really in the mood.

  Taylor: Will you dance with me tomorrow?

  Tessa H: Maybe. I don’t know. Which song?

  Taylor: You tell me. What songs are you hoping Eric will play?

  Tessa couldn’t help but smile at his transparent attempt to distract her. It was funny, really. Taylor still didn’t fully understand why she’d agreed to meet him tonight. He thought it had to do with Eric Thorn—that the prospect of seeing her idol in person was enough to lure her out of her house. Not that she didn’t love Eric. She did, in a way. But she didn’t love him. She knew the difference between fantasy and reality.

  Eric Thorn was just a fantasy. But Taylor… He was real.

  Tessa flicked her eyes sideways to take in the passing landscape. It was after nightfall now. The sun had sunk below the bank of thick clouds at the horizon. Dr. Regan clicked on the SUV’s headlights to illuminate the road. A sign came into view in front of them: Exit 54.

  The last chance to turn around before they came upon their final destination.

  It wasn’t too late. The wheels were in motion, but Tessa could still bring the whole thing to a screeching halt. She could go back home. Unfollow Taylor. Deactivate the account. She could disappear on him without a trace. That would probably be the safest thing to do.

  But could she? Could she really live the rest of her life never even knowing his last name? After everything he’d said to her last night?

  She lowered her gaze to her phone and resumed where she’d left off.

  Tessa H: As long as he does “Snowflake,” I’ll be happy.

  Taylor: The new single? Do you like it?

  Tessa H: Are you kidding? I’m obsessed with that song. You know he’s never used the L-word in a song before.

  Taylor: Is that really true?

  Tessa H: I just want to see the look on his face when he sings it. That’s all.

  Taylor: Me too.

  Tessa H: You do? I thought he was a douche nozzle. What happened to #EricThornSucks?

  Taylor: I want to see the look on your face when you see the look on his face.

  Tessa H: I don’t know. It might make me sad. If it looks like he’s really, truly in love…

  Taylor: What? You’d be jealous?

  Tessa H: Not jealous exactly. It’s more complicated than that. I guess I just wish someone would write a song like that about me.

  Taylor: Goddammit, Tessa.

  Tessa H: What?

  Taylor: Tessa……

  Tessa H: What?? Now you’re scaring me again.

  Taylor: I really want to tell you something right now.

  Tessa H: What????? Is there something you’re not telling me?

  Tessa felt her pulse quicken yet again as she reread it. She remembered the way her breath had caught in her chest last night as the moment dragged on and on. She’d felt so certain that all her fears were justified. He’d been hiding something all along, and he was about to make a confession.

  Taylor: One more day. Then you’ll understand. You have to trust me, OK?

  Tessa H: Please tell me. I can’t take the suspense. I really can’t. It’s killing me.

  Taylor: You really want the truth? Right now?

  Tessa H: TELL ME

  Taylor: OK. Truth… I don’t know about Eric Thorn and his cheesy-ass songs, but I do know that I love you.

  Taylor: Do you hear me, Tessa?

  Taylor: L-O-V-E

  Taylor: And I need you to remember that tomorrow. Whatever else happens, just remember I said that, and I meant it. Because it’s TRUE.

  Taylor: Are you there?

  Taylor: O
K… I guess I’ll just see you tomorrow.

  Tessa H: No, wait. I’m here. I’m crying.

  Taylor: Don’t cry.

  Tessa H: I’m crying because I love you too—

  “Tessa? Earth to Tessa?”

  Tessa’s eyes had grown misty, but her head jerked up at the sound of Dr. Regan’s voice.

  “Huh? What? Did you say something?”

  “What are you up to on that phone of yours?”

  “Nothing. I was just—”

  “Are you ready for this? We’re almost there.”

  “No. No, stop. Wait.”

  “What is it?”

  “Wait,” Tessa said again. “Pull over.”

  “Tessa, you can do this. Remember your breathing—”

  Tessa waved an arm to cut her off and motioned toward the shoulder of the road. Her eyes were glued to the phone again, but not to the same place in the conversation.

  A new message had just flashed across her screen, added to the end of the thread.

  “Pull over,” she said to Dr. Regan. “Something happened. Change of plans. Taylor just DM’ed.”

  • • •

  Eric rubbed his palms together briskly. He could feel his fingers growing numb. He cupped his hands around his mouth and blew in a puff of air to warm them.

  It must be one hell of a cold front blowing in. The temperature had plummeted by twenty degrees in the ten minutes since the sun sank below the horizon. A stiff wind blew steadily across the parking lot, whipping up the dust.

  He longed to return inside the shelter of the club. Maybe someone in there had a warmer coat that he could borrow. Maybe Maury? Eric could hear the faint sound of his manager’s voice on the other side of the door, yapping away on his cell phone.

  But Eric couldn’t quite bring himself to peel his eyes away from the abandoned two-lane highway. Not even for a moment. He didn’t want to miss her.